Resistance - J.M. Dillard [23]
“The Borg have a new queen?” the Klingon asked. It was not a question so much as a request for confirmation.
Picard sat up slowly, waving away the doctor’s attempts to support him. He pressed a hand to his temple as if it pained him. “Not yet…but they soon will have.” He lowered his hand and looked pointedly up at his two officers. “With the destruction of the transwarp conduits, the Borg that remain in the Alpha Quadrant have been cut off from the Collective as a whole. When a queen is killed, the Collective eventually creates a new one. Now that these Borg are essentially alone, they have taken it upon themselves to create their own queen. One with a singular purpose.”
Beverly folded her arms, as if warding off a chill. “To conquer us once and for all.”
Jean-Luc pressed his lips into a grim line before answering. “No. Not to conquer us…to destroy us. They want to wipe all traces of humanity from the universe. They’re building their vessel in order to accommodate the queen. Once she comes to consciousness, and is able to issue directives, the attack will commence.”
Worf’s expression had grown fierce, determined, the look of a Klingon ready for battle. “When will the queen be ready?”
“Too soon,” Picard replied. “Too soon.”
Seated in one of the Enterprise conference rooms, Picard rested his forearms against the cool, polished surface of the oblong table and studied the faces of the officers who looked to him for direction.
Beverly was seated on his left. Her face was carefully composed, her posture somehow managing to telegraph her full support, yet a furrow of tension had formed between her eyebrows, and her lips were taut, showing strain at the corners. Worf had taken a position at Picard’s right. The Klingon was a solid, powerful presence, showing no sign of the discomfort from the earlier events of the day. Nave sat next to him, her youthful features emanating pure seriousness, but her eyes were wider than usual, the only hint of the trepidation they were all feeling. Although she was technically not a member of the senior crew, she had proved valuable enough to merit inclusion; she deserved a voice, given the seriousness of what the captain intended to ask of her.
Two other bodies new to the room sat across from each other at the end of the table. Picard was familiar with the recently promoted security chief, Lionardo Battaglia. The man had been with the Enterprise during their last encounter with the Borg, though, like Nave, this was his first time in the briefing room. Picard was not surprised that Battaglia had taken the seat beside Nave. The warmth passing between the two crew members was evident, particularly in contrast to the stoic presence opposite them. Placid as the still surface of an untroubled pond, T’Lana sat on the other side of the table, her spine so immaculately straight it failed to touch the back of her chair. Nave was not particularly tall, but it was clear even across the table that she dwarfed the Vulcan.
Geordi was leaning forward, seated between T’Lana and Beverly, his fingers tightly interlaced, his expression one of frank concern. Of all the members of the crew, he had probably heard the least about recent events, but judging from his demeanor, the scuttlebutt network had clearly given him a good idea of what was going on.
The thunderous voice of the Borg announcing the nascent queen had silenced all vestiges of Picard’s self-doubt; he knew what had to be done. Yet he could not ask his officers to blindly risk their lives and careers without explanation. He owed them that much.
“You all have some idea why you have been summoned here,” Picard began. “You know that I have heard, as it were, the voice of the Borg, planning to launch an attack in Alpha Quadrant. I am utterly convinced that this is a fact, yet I have no way to prove this to any of you. I can only ask you to accept my